


Assistance Required

by NotRyanRoss



Category: All Time Low, Bandom, Music RPF, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: AUTHOR AU, Abusive Relationships, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Poetry, Writers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotRyanRoss/pseuds/NotRyanRoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh became the personal assistant to author Tyler Joseph in the fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assistance Required

Joshua Dun had become the personal assistant to famous writer Tyler Joseph (codename Blurryface) in the fall.

It had been an advertisement for a live-in servant, basically, which suited Josh because he was tired of paying rent on his shithole of an apartment. He hadn't actually read any of the man's novels, despite Tyler being a world-famous (arguably the most popular) series writer. Hell, he didn't even know what Tyler's books were about. Patrick had said that it was some dark stuff, but hadn't elaborated. Really, he could've been writing about unicorns and flower shops for all Josh knew. He could be writing crappy fanfiction, because that was the darkest thing _he_ could imagine. Josh had no idea. He liked to think that's why Tyler hired him - he wasn't a fan. He didn't even like books all that much, he was more of a television kind of guy.

When he'd told Tyler that, he'd gotten a vague, barely-there smile (that had been ridiculously cute) and then the next day there was a message on his phone simply saying "You're hired." Josh, of course, had grinned and started his work the next day. It wasn't just that he needed somewhere to live and work, it was that he was intrigued by those dark eyes and the way Tyler had watched him attentively as he talked. Like he'd actually cared. Everyone else he had spoken to in interviews had looked out a window or typed something on their computer, or even ignored him outright. Tyler was different. Tyler Joseph was something else entirely, and Josh wanted to know ehat that something else was. 

"Guess what?"

"You got the job?"

"I got the job," Josh said happily.

"Nice," Patrick answered, sounding as happy as he felt. "Are you moving in?"

"Already have. I start work tomorrow."

"Cool. What's the pay like?"

"Substantial, from what I've heard. Honestly, I'd work just to live here."

"That good, huh?"

"Yep."

"Well, I guess it would be. Listen, Josh..."

"Yeah?"

"Be careful with Tyler Joseph."

"What? Is he a serial killer or something?"

"No."

"Then what do you mean?"

Patrick sounded uncomfortable. "I've heard...things."

"Things like what?"

A laugh. "It's nothing, I'm trying to psych you out. Go sleep."

"...alright. Night, Patrick."

The room was nice enough (translation: ridiculously big), one connected to Tyler's through a walk-in closet so he was always within reach. He'd given Tyler his cell number, but the author had insisted it was unnecessary. Josh found the size of his room more unnecessary than a phone number. It wasn't gaudy as such though, more homely, and the bed was fluffy. There was a window that took up an entire wall, and offered a view of the city that Josh had to admit he really did like. The first day was scheduled for him to get settled in, so he unpacked everything and introduced himself to the staff. There was Jenna, the cooking team - Alex, Jack, Rian and Zack, and the maids, Hayley and Melanie. There were some other staff members but they hadn't shown themselves yet. Josh just rolled with it.

"Where's Mr Joseph?"

Jenna smiled. "He's in his office. But you don't start until tomorrow, so I'll take care of him for today."

"Um...okay."

Josh looked down at his neatly folded pairs of jeans and then back up at Jenna, who was wearing a loose blouse and had her arms folded comfortably. She wasn't moving, just watched him with something in her eyes that he couldn't read. He looked down at his pants again and then back up, wondering if she actually wanted anything or whether she was just hanging out. Jenna smiled again, tapped her long fingernails against the expensive-looking doorframe. Josh put down the pair of ripped skinny jeans and looked at her questioningly. She watched him for a few more seconds (and Jesus, was he uncomfortable) before she actually spoke again.

"You know that Tyler's...special, right?"

Josh frowned. "Special how? Like..."

"No," she said, amused. "He's not going to piss on you or stab someone. He's just... different."

"I'm okay with different."

"I'm sure you are. I'm just warning you before you get in too deep."

She turned to leave, but Josh took a step forward, making her turn again to look at him. He was curious about this now, curious about this house and these people and Tyler Joseph himself. What did all this actually _mean_? Special? Was this to do with whatever he wrote or was it something else entirely? Jenna made it sound like something Josh should be nervous about. And he probably would be, if the memory of Tyler's shy little smile didn't keep flickering behind his eyes. And with that thought, he really couldn't imagine any wrong being done by the author.

"Has he had personal assistants before...me?"

"Just one," Jenna said, before leaving with a click of heels. Her perfume, something ridiculously strong and thick in his nose, remained.

Josh frowned. Looked like he was going to have to make his own dinner. Oh well, at least it gave him a nice excuse to do some of his own exploring. He'd like to say he wasn't nosy, but...maybe he could get away with referring to it as an 'inquisitive nature' instead. He quickly shoved his underwear and a large copy of the Oxford Dictionary into the dresser and clicked off the lights. Surely Jack would have some spare snacks, he had seemed really nice when they'd been introduced. Also, Alex had been making some really nice-looking hamburgers. He did live here now, after all, and hopefully that meant getting to eat as well. They wouldn't starve the employees, surely, especially the new one.

He made his way out into the hallway and sighed. Why did the mansion have to be a goddamn maze? It was so big. He turned left, then right, then left again, and found himself in front of a red door. It wasn't a nice wood that was dark red, it was painted. Which meant this door was very, very red. Josh found himself touching the door, running his fingers along the chipped paint job. What was this place? Wasn't it just supposed to be a normal job?

"Josh! Dude, I have the best soup ever, I just made it, you have to try!"

Josh startled away from the door and tried to smile at Jack, who seemed unperturbed. He slung an arm over Josh's shoulders and began leading him away, chattering happily about the magic that was his homemade soup.

Josh forgot about the red door.

The second day, he started his assistant duties.

"Where's Mr Joseph?"

"In his office," Jenna said, smiling. "Here. I'll show you the way."

Josh tried to start a conversation, which wasn't his strong suit. "So...how long have you been working here?"

"A few years now," she answered. "It's nice here."

"It's pretty cool," Josh agreed.

"So are you, Joshua. Alright, here we are."

The office was luxuriously furnished, much like the rest of the house, dark mahogany and hints of green and gold. It took him a minute to locate Tyler Joseph himself, who was sitting on the windowsill to the right of the office. He was wearing an oversized floral robe that hung off of his bony shoulders - Josh guessed he could wear what he wanted, what with working at home. He was probably richer than Steve Jobs by now, he could afford to wear flowers. Josh didn't have a uniform as such, but they were told to wear black, so he was wearing a sleeveless button-up and slacks. Professional enough, he guessed. He'd seen a cleaner in an extremely short plaid skirt and a bra, so his uniform was probably okay.

The window was wide open, and the writer was leaning out the window at an odd angle that must have been hurting his spine like hell. For a split second fear shot up Josh's spine - he wasn't going to _jump_ , surely? If he jumped he might-

"Uh -"

Tyler turned his face to look at Josh when he stuttered, and the writer paused. There was something in his face, some odd expression that said everything and nothing all at once. It sent a chill right up Josh's spine like he'd been zapped.

"Mr Dun," Tyler greeted.

"Mr Joseph," Josh said automatically.

"Just Tyler," the author answered, slipping off the sill to the carpet.

_That's unprofessional, I can't do that,_ Josh thought to himself.  "Can I get you anything?"

"Coffee would be nice," Tyler said absently, turning back to the window. He didn't say anything more, so Josh went to make his coffee like a good little assistant. But that didn't make him any less intrigued. Because he was very, very intrigued.

Because there was something very off about Tyler Joseph that Josh couldn't quite put his finger on. Something very off indeed. Maybe Patrick had been right to warn him. Josh hoped he wouldn't get his fingernails pulled off in his sleep or something equally disgusting and horror movie worthy. He'd seen the fingernail thing in an anime, though. 

The noises started late at night.

It wasn't just late at night, it was early in the morning, Josh found, as he opened his eyes and discovered the time. He thought blearily that it was probably a bird outside or something, pecking the window - maybe it was a branch. The tapping was weirdly even, though. Like it was trying to follow a beat. He rolled over so his face was pressed into the pillow and tried to go back to sleep. Then the got louder, and he realised it wasn't just mindless tapping. It was... _drumming_. Was someone here playing at this time of night? Was it one of the staff members? It didn't sound very close, maybe a couple of rooms away.

He was out of bed before his brain even managed to catch up. Still in his boxers and shirt, barefoot and his hair flopping everywhere. The floor was cold on his feet as he made his way down the hall, following the rhythmic thrumming under his toes. What was going on? Who played the drums at two am, like honestly? He found himself at the red door again. He wasn't brave enough to just barge in, but he leaned forward and settled his ear against the painted wood. Yes, there was that blasted drumbeat. It was... pretty good, actually. Josh remembered playing as a kid, when they'd actually had money to follow whatever hobby he had. Even now, his fingers were itching to play. Maybe the mysterious musician would be able to let him play as well? That'd be nice.

He raised his hand to the doorknob, and then the drumming stopped abruptly.

"...Josh?"

He turned to glance at a tired-looking Jenna.

"What are you doing out here at this time?"

"I...nothing."

Jenna looked disbelieving, so he continued, slightly panicked.

"I was just- I just wanted some water."

"Mm.. the kitchen is down the hall. I should've given you a map," she said, amused.

"I'll be fine...thanks."

"Alright, well," she yawns, "I'm going back to bed. My room's downstairs if you need anything."

"Okay."

She wandered away and Josh actually did go to the kitchen, even if only to stare at the wall and wonder just what was going on in this house. He did get a glass, but ended up pouring the last of the apple juice into it instead. How had Jenna even known he was around? Weird. Had she heard the drumming as well? But she had just said her room was downstairs...

" _What do you think you're doing?_ "

Josh froze, hearing Jenna's voice from around the corner. Who was she talking to?

"..."

" _You should be working, not playing around in your little music room_."

"..."

" _You're an adult, stop acting like you haven't got any responsibilities._ "

"..."

" _Disgusting. Get back to your office_."

"Sure you're not just being weird about it?"

"I'm sure," Josh muttered. "Anyway, you were the one saying that stuff before."

"I was just being protective. You're like my unofficial brother."

"Sure."

"So, how sure are you there's something wrong with him?"

"How sure?"

"Like... eighty two percent?"

"What a specific number."

"I'm pretty damn sure, Patrick."

Patrick went silent over the phone, and Josh huffed.

"I'm just asking if you know anything about it, Patrick. Anything about him."

"I've heard stories," Patrick answered after another minute of silence.

"... and?"

"But I can't say they're true. Or say them at all."

"What? Why not?"

"Because it's not my place to tell, that's why."

"Can you tell me anything?"

"I can tell you that Tyler Joseph is a lot different from other people," Patrick said.

"Mr Joseph, ready for your coffee?"

"Tea," Tyler said wearily. "And for the last time, it's Tyler."

"Sure thing, Mr Joseph."

Josh went to make the tea - there was a chef for these kinds of things (Tyler was filthy fucking rich) but Josh liked to do it himself. There was something calming about making drinks. He'd worked at an old coffeeshop when he was in his teens, loved every minute of it. It was just after high school, just after everything had gone to shit and life started suffocating him. It was just the atmosphere of the coffeeshop that kept him going, the way it smelled and the friendly customers and the epderly manager who smiled every time she saw him. It had been a good memory in the myriad of bad memories that his teens had been.

He poured the boiled water into the mug painted with red stripes and added a substantial amount of milk, then stirred gently and took it back to Tyler's office. He braced himself against the dusty, stale smell of the room by inhaling over the tea before he entered. Maybe he should open a window. Tyler himself was now facedown on the desk, eyes open but unseeing, staring off into space. He'd started this two days ago, becoming listless and empty, and it was... unsettling. None of the other employees seemed concerned at all, (Josh had asked but he'd just gotten a "that's Tyler for you") but... it looked like he was caving in, sometimes. It was worrying, to say the least.

"I brought your tea," Josh said quietly.

Tyler didn't move an inch. Josh took a step closer and crouched down a bit so he was at eye-level. From this angle, Tyler's face was even whiter, the shadows under his eyes almost black. It was almost like looking at a _corpse-_

_"It's okay, Joshie, don't cry. Mommy loves you. Don't worry about a thing, I'll clean all this up-"_

"-Hey, Mr Joseph, how about you have your tea and take a nap?"

Josh pushed back the memories automatically, returning his attention to the writer in front of him. Tyler's eyes flickered to his face when he spoke, but he still looked like he was staring through Josh instead of at him. He looked... resigned, and tired, and it made Josh's chest hurt a little. That kind of empty look didn't belong on anyone, let alone his employer. Tyler wasn't a bad guy, as far as he knew, and even if he was...

"I can't sleep. There's no point," Tyler said hollowly.

_Why can't you sleep?_ Josh thought. _What's wrong with you, Tyler Joseph?_

Josh set the mug down on the desk and folded his hands together, trying not to look too nervous. Tyler still didn't move, just the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Josh wasn't entirely sure he was going to move for the next month. Or the next year, even. It looked like he planned on staying there until he turned into a statue. He wondered if Tyler would ask for help, would _let_ him help if he tried. Because Josh knew better than anyone he couldn't keep going like this.

"Is that all, Mr Joseph?" Josh said it softly, like noise would break him.

"Yes, that's all," Tyler muttered.

Josh nodded, and left the room.

"Is he in a mood again?" Jenna pulled him aside to whisper in his ear.

"A mood?" Josh repeated.

"You know what I mean," Jenna said.

"He's... not great."

"I thought so."

"..."

"Listen, Josh, don't let him get you down. He's always like this."

"Is he okay?"

"He's Tyler," Jenna said, which wasn't very good reasoning.

She patted him on the arm and walked away then, to go and do whatever it was she did (Josh still had no idea what her job actually was). Josh watched her go silently, brain working a thousand miles a minute. He couldn't help thinking that if all the staff were this dismissive, no wonder Tyler wasn't getting better. No wonder he looked so pallid and...

Kind of dead, to be honest.   

"I'm telling you, something's up," Josh said.

"Up? Like what?"

"Like... he's weird," Josh said. "Tyler. He's off and no one seems to care."

"But, Josh... you seem to care."

"Someone has to," he answered dryly.

Patrick laughed. "You're a good person, Josh."

"Thanks... I think."

"I'm serious."

"About what?"

"Maybe you should do something if no one else will. Maybe you should do something even if someone else would anyway."

"Maybe."

"Turn that maybe into a yes," Patrick said, determined-sounding.

"We'll see. Goodnight."

"Night. Look after yourself."

"Will do."

The next day, Josh walked into Tyler's office and found him sitting in the corner of the room, huddled in a ball. He wasn't doing anything, just sitting there in the shadows like he was trying to hide from the world. Josh didn't say anything this time, just approached him quietly and sat down next to him. From their proximity, he could feel that Tyler was cold - not just a little chilly, but really fucking arctic -  and he'd shuffled closer without meaning to. Had he been here the whole night? Jesus Christ. What had he been _thinking_? Tyler shivered against him, whole body shuddering violently.

"Mr Joseph, I'm going to run you a bath and make some tea," Josh said decisively.

Tyler didn't answer.

He also didn't say anything when Josh pulled him to his feet and led him back to the master bedroom. They passed Jenna, who gave them a raise of one manicured eyebrow. Josh tried not to look appalled by her clearly surprised reaction. He'd been right, then. None of them did anything or expected anyone else to do anything to help. He was their employee. They _lived_ with him. Why didn't anybody care? Why didn't anybody give a shit? It just wasn't fucking right to be like this. Josh may have pushed the bedroom door open a little harder than necessary in his haze of frustration.

"Stay here," Josh ordered, going into the en suite and twisting the knobs of the ivory bathtub. There was no answer, but he didn't hear movement from the adjoining room. Whether that boded well or not was the question running through Josh's mind.  Was he... overstepping his boundaries by intervening when no one else would? Was it the job of a personal assistant to decide when his charge was too sick to work? In the end, did it even matter? He wasn't going to just sit by and let Tyler waste away. No one deserved to just erode like sand into the ocean.

_No one_.

He turned the taps off and called out quietly, "Mr Joseph?"

There was no verbal answer, so he stepped out of the bathroom and cast his eyes about the room.

He found Tyler sitting on the floor a few inches away from where he'd left him, eyes glassy. He didn't look conscious, even, like he'd passed out with his eyes open. His fingers were spread lightly on the dark red carpet, fingernails bitten down so much that there were traces of blood. He was breathing, though, gentle up and downs of his chest. Josh breathed out a sigh of relief and approached him, kneeling down and putting his face directly where Tyler was staring. For a second he was worried Tyler wasn't going to react at all, and then he blinked.

There was a blink.

"Mr Joseph?"

"Tyler," he said automatically, and Josh felt his lips curl up a little in a smile.

"So. Bath?"

Tyler didn't speak again, but he let Josh lead him to the immaculate bathroom and take off his shirt. Josh wasn't brave enough to try and take off anything else, even though his charge didn't seem to care. Either way, Tyler started to take off his own shorts so Josh averted his eyes until he heard a muted splash and a sigh. Then he looked back at Tyler absently, like he couldn't help it. With Tyler's eyes closed and body surrounded by iridescent bubbles, he looked a lot paler, a lot more... tired. Josh sat down on the floor by the bath and looked at the blank wall instead.

They sat there in silence for a long time. Josh didn't know how long; it felt like all the clocks had frozen and there was just him and Tyler in a bubble where nothing else and no one else existed. It was... peaceful.

"...Josh?"

He turned to look at Tyler, who was lying back in the bubbles with his eyes half-open, watching Josh lazily. There was something more alert to his expression, though, than had been there before. Josh didn't know what it actually meant. Tyler's facial expressions seemed to be mysteries.

"Yes, Mr Joseph?"

"I'm going to get out of the bath in a moment."

"Oka - oh." His cheeks flushed of their own accord. "Yes, I'll - go get you some clothes."

He all but ran out of the bathroom and started pulling out clothes haphazardly.  

"And then what?"

"I made him go to bed, and I left," Josh answered.

Patrick chuckled.

"What? You told me to help him!"

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing because you're adorable."

"...shut up."

"So what do you think will happen tomorrow?"

"I don't know. Mass homicide? A movie where Batman actually has personality?"

"With you and him," Patrick said in a long-suffering tone.

"Don't know. I think he might have a fever."

"You gonna let him work?"

"Not if he's sick," Josh replied automatically.

"You know you're not his mom, right."

"I'm his personal assistant," he said firmly. "I'm here to look after him."


End file.
